Chapter 247 - 112: A Sudden Turn for the Worse (Part 1)

Chapter 247: Chapter 112: A Sudden Turn for the Worse (Part 1)

"Then I got back to my dorm, and the moment they came in, they started trying to persuade me. ’Nanshan, you can’t go on like this. You have to move on.’ It wasn’t just them, either. The old principal from my former job called me, and so did my old colleagues and students. One by one, they all told me to be strong, to tell them if I was having any trouble, and asked why I had to act like I was in some kind of self-imposed exile.

"So I had to explain myself to them, one by one. I was around twenty-three, twenty-four back then—a really awkward age. You’re technically an adult, sure, but you still feel no different from some kid fresh out of college. But you have to start taking responsibility for your own life, so you can’t just ignore their calls because you’re heartbroken. But what was I supposed to say? That my girlfriend and I had broken up? I couldn’t bring myself to say it."

Zhang Shutong knew he meant "passed away," not "broken up."

"Looking back, a lot of people cared about me, but very few understood—my parents included. So, I think I get how you feel. And don’t think you’re making a big deal out of nothing. Let me tell you, this is nothing. I was way more of a wreck back then than you are now."

Song chuckled wryly.

"I think it was during our driving lesson the other day, you asked how I got so familiar with the roads around here. The truth is, I just drove. A lot. I’ve been to every single corner of this island. I mean, how big is our island, really? But in my busiest year, I drove twenty thousand kilometers. Think about what that means. A lap around the island is less than twenty kilometers, and there are plenty of places you can’t even get to by car. You can do the math—figure out how many laps I was averaging a day. Here, let me show you something—"

As he spoke, Song led him to the car and opened the glove compartment. A whole boxful of cards came tumbling out in a spectacular cascade. Zhang Shutong picked one up and saw that they were discount cards from a gas station. Each one was only for three yuan off.

But there wasn’t even a gas station on the island; he had to go to the city every time. God knows how many times he’d filled up.

Song looked at the now-empty glove compartment, a hint of loneliness in his eyes. He stuffed the cards back in, one by one, then shut it with a sharp SNAP.

"It’s just idle talk. But if you really want me to say something more, I’ll add one more thing. In my four years on this island, I’ve come to understand one thing about life: it’s a process of coming to terms with yourself. If you can’t accept the outcome, it doesn’t matter who tries to convince you otherwise."

Zhang Shutong nodded silently, feeling there was truth in those words.

’What am I even holding on to now? Gu Qiuyan is alive, and that should be enough. I should be able to breathe a sigh of relief. But the fragments of memory won’t let me go so easily—the regret from my school days when I heard the news of her death, the shock eight years later when I saw that hidden photo album in the nail salon.’

’There’s something you carry in your heart for years. You don’t consciously think about it, but once it enters your mind, you rack your brain over what was right or wrong, what you could have done better... You try everything, but it’s no use. What you really want isn’t an answer or a result, but simply to mourn for what can’t be undone.’

But Song Nanshan was someone who truly couldn’t undo anything.

Some things weren’t as casual as the other man made them sound. A few days ago, through the door of the police station, he had overheard the story. The reason the man had come to teach on this small island was because his girlfriend was a local. Her funeral was held on the island; she remained here forever, and so he had remained as well. And the ability that he himself was so desperate to get rid of might be the very thing his teacher dreamed of having.

Zhang Shutong still had one of the gas cards in his hand. He offered it to Song, but the teacher waved it off.

"This damn thing only saves you three yuan at a time, and you can only use one per fill-up. Then they give you three more. You can never get rid of them."

"Then why do you still keep them?"

Zhang Shutong felt his own question was kind of stupid, but he just had to ask right then.

"Four years, Shutong," the man said softly. "After four years, you need to have something to show for it. I’ve been your teacher since your first year of middle school. In a way, you all are my proof, my mark. But you’re about to graduate. In another half-year, you’ll be gone. What will be left for me then? Really, only these."

Zhang Shutong felt like he only half-understood, and a wave of melancholy washed over him. But then Song suddenly laughed.

"That’s the poetic way of putting it. You didn’t actually take me seriously, did you? The truth is, I’m just too lazy to clean up. I just toss them in there every time I get gas."

He added, lowering his voice:

"It’s not just gas cards, actually. Sometimes I find those little flyers they stick on the car window... you know the ones. I toss those in there too. Good thing you two didn’t see them, or my good name would be ruined. Let me warn you now, don’t get the wrong idea. Your teacher is a man of virtue. If you dare tell anyone, kid, you can forget about sitting next to Qiumian. I’ll move you two apart next week."

And just like that, Zhang Shutong’s melancholic mood vanished completely.

Song chuckled and told him and Lu Qinglian to get out of the car. He said the three of them should go wait upstairs where it was warmer.

As they passed the motorcycle, the man was in a good enough mood to pat the handlebars. "Whoa, a Honda. I used to have one, but I sold it. Is it your dad’s?"

Zhang Shutong nodded. He took out a mask he’d gotten from the hospital, but just as he put it on, Song casually swatted it off.

"I have a habit of taking a picture when I see a bike I like," Song said. "It’s a cool-looking ride."